


Venomous

by PhazonFire



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Genji and Tracer are Gal Pals, Rarepair, Sexual Tension, based ENTIRELY off interactions between Genji and Widowmaker in game, masochistic Genji, more pairings added as needed, no idea where this is going lmfao, probably, probably failed at following the canon, salty ass Genji, tried to follow the canon, updates weekly, upgrading the rating later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-12-15 01:19:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11795439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhazonFire/pseuds/PhazonFire
Summary: Genji Shimada's got a bad habit of flirting with death, and old habits die hard. What starts as a simple fascination with skill soon grows to a relationship that threatens the safety of his teammates, and Genji walks a fine line between loyalty and treason.





	1. Shot in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Genji has a close call with a sniper. Again. This time, though, he's much more impressed.

Genji always admired a woman who could kick his ass. 

Probably not the best thought to cross his mind while sprawled out on a stretcher, metal shavings settling delicately onto the streams of blood pervading his armor, but it was a thought nonetheless. Was the mission successful? Genji did not know, nor did he care. Distant voices floated past in a chaotic mix of panic and forced calm. 

“Straight through the head. He should count himself lucky that his armor is built so sturdy, or he might not be with us right now. He will be under strict supervision at the base.”

“My thanks, Dr. Ziegler. Truly it is a miracle that you are with us.”

“Master?” Genji asked weakly, the metallic tang of blood still lingering on his tongue. Dead or alive, Genji’s head was throbbing madly, and he struggled to open his eyes. 

“Stay down. You’ve taken quite the injury. Frankly, I’m impressed you’re even still conscious,” came Mercy’s voice as a gloved hand prodded and probed scratches and sores under his armor, where his human side rested. 

Genji chuckled, although it came out as more of a dry cough. “I am slightly afraid to ask what happened.”

“You were shot,” answered a stern tone, all too familiar. Genji tilted his head just enough to see Hanzo approaching with a cross look on his face. His eyes wandered--wherever he was, it was safely on the dropship they’d taken into Dorado. Airborne, judging by the jostling beneath his resting place. 

“I assumed as much, brother,” he murmured with a roll of his eyes. The one good part about having the visor off (courtesy of Dr. Ziegler’s all-invasive care) was how much easier it was to convey his frustration to Hanzo. 

“Not just shot. Sniped. You were careless, and your position was found. Unbelievable.”

“Do not be hard on him,” Zenyatta answered, easing Genji’s mind--Hanzo was only half as intimidating with the omnic monk around. “To err is human. Consider this a learning experience.”

“Erring is what almost got him killed to begin with.”

“ _You_ are what almost got me killed to begin with,” Genji muttered disdainfully under his breath. Hanzo lecturing Genji over his own health may as well have been the pot calling the kettle black.

“Both of you, this is not a conversation I want had right now. Zenyatta, could you and Hanzo kindly give the patient some space? There is work to be done.”

With a grunt, Hanzo turned heel and headed out of the ship’s makeshift infirmary, likely off to criticize someone else. Zenyatta waved, floating serenely out behind the elder Shimada brother. Weakly, Genji raised his hand enough for a feeble wave in return to his master. He sighed deeply, experimentally flexing his fingers. 

“I’m sure he really does care about you, you know,” Mercy added. Genji couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Attempted murder is sure a funny way of showing it.”

“Forget him. What exactly happened to you?”

“I do not remember all the details, Angela.” This wasn’t exactly a lie--the last several hours were a blur, no doubt in part to Genji’s sudden head trauma. The mission in Dorado had run smoothly, with Genji and several other members of Overwatch working quickly to dispatch a small group of Talon operatives that had begun to set up base in the area as of late for reasons unknown. Dealing with Talon was embarrassingly simple, provided they kept their “special operatives” out of the picture. This time, they had only sent one, and it was not realized until Torbjorn’s turret had burst into flames, seemingly out of nowhere. 

\---

“Sniper,” someone had shouted in a panic. Perched upon a nearby roof, Genji readied his blade. He watched tentatively as Torbjorn quickly erected a new turret in place of the now-obliterated one, only for another perfectly-aligned bullet to rip through its wiring in the blink of an eye, leaving only scrap metal in its wake. 

He whistled. “Nice shot.” Talon or not, Genji could appreciate talent in combat. 

“Genji, let’s move,” came Tracer’s voice at his side on the rooftop, appearing spontaneously in a brilliant blue flash. “We gotta find that sniper, love.” 

“On it,” he answered curtly, the two swiftly leaping from roof to roof as silently as possible, side by side. The mystery sniper had made the fatal mistake of sniping from the same location twice--they may as well have told Genji their position already. Gunfire echoed in the distance, accompanied on occasion by the loud crack of a sniper rifle hitting its mark. He smirked, as the careless marksman had yet to change position even now. 

“Tracer, take the left,” he barked, the girl shooting him a thumbs-up before disappearing, streaks of blue lighting up another path along the rooftops of Dorado. If he continued to the right, both operatives would easily corner the sniper, leaving him nowhere to escape and too little room to fight at a comfortable range. Genji, however, did not anticipate the stray bullet that brushed the shingle just below his foot, picking up speed as one stray turned into a pack of carefully-timed shots deliberately meant for him. He cringed--the sniper had caught onto his plan.

“Impressive. Then I will take you on myself,” he spoke aloud to no one in particular. Even while missing, to hit so close to him, as he sprinted, each and every time was a feat. One, however, knocked a shingle loose on impact, sending the tile sliding ungracefully down the rooftop. Genji raised his eyebrows. The sniper hadn’t been missing, but rather trying to upset his balance. As he came to this realization, a second bullet whizzed past his head, narrowly missing. Balance aside, the sniper was shooting to kill.

Amidst the flashes of bullets and bombs on the streets below, Genji caught a tiny glimmer in his peripheral vision. He watched out of the corner of his eye as that shimmer proceeded another shot aimed squarely at him. And another. And then another. _Perfect_. There was no hiding the distinctive shine of a rifle barrel under the moonlight. He turned abruptly, dashing diagonally in the direction of the sniper, moving as unpredictably as possible. Wasted bullet after wasted bullet rained down around his feet. He let loose an arc of shuriken in front of him, grinning as he finally made out a shadow shifting positions several yards away.

“Give up,” he cried, blade at the ready. “I know where you are.” When no answer came, he lunged in for the kill, stopped only by a sudden fume that gagged him, seeping in thick clouds underneath his visor. He doubled over coughing, cursing himself at the sight of a leaking canister fixed to the roof, steadily sending puffy plumes of lavender smoke into the air. Suddenly vulnerable, Genji whirled around frantically, scanning as fast as he could for any sign of the sniper.

What his eyes met with made his blood run cold. Mere feet away sat that very sniper rifle he’d kept his eyes trained on, angled just so that Genji was staring up the barrel. His last conscious moments came in splintered flashes--a lithe figure, a delicate finger curling around the trigger, a stance more suited to a dancer than a killer. Icy skin, a deep cascade of violet that swayed in the evening breeze. A malicious smile that made Genji’s heart race, not entirely from fear, as it tenderly mouthed one final sentence to him, gunpowder ripping through the barrel and Genji’s world going dark.

_I see you_.   
\---  
Of course, that last part wasn’t something he planned on telling Angela anytime soon, let alone anyone else who questioned him about his encounter. He folded his hands over his chest, eyes fixed on the ceiling of the dropship. “It was a woman,” he added. “A woman with impeccable aim that rivals even my brother’s. And to think she stayed one step ahead of me that entire time.”

“Sounds like the Widowmaker to me,” Mercy replied nonchalantly as she dabbed antiseptic on Genji’s cuts. “Talon is rumored to have an incredibly dangerous sniper on their side. Cold, emotionless, and enough to kill with a single shot. I’d be on my guard from now on if I were you.”

“And how went the mission?”

Mercy shook her head sadly. “We’ve neutralized a good portion of the Talon troops, but the sniper was long gone by the time you were found. It’s not unlikely that she will return with additional units to finish what they’ve already started, whatever that may be. More importantly, you owe Tracer more gratitude than myself for dragging you all the way to the ship after you were hit.”

Genji laughed heartily. “I will be sure to let her know that I appreciate it.”

Mercy smiled. “On that note, I will leave you to rest. Take as long as you need and let me know if your headache persists or gets any worse. No pun intended, but you really dodged a bullet this time.”

Genji groaned playfully as Mercy chuckled her way out of the infirmary. “Please, Angela, do not wound me further with puns.”

“Goodnight, Genji,” she whispered, softly closing the door behind her.

With only his thoughts and the gentle whirr of the plane’s engine as company, Genji closed his eyes, pleased to notice the throbbing in his head subsiding gradually with each passing moment. As he drifted off to sleep, he absentmindedly mouthed a phrase to himself that needled at the back of his mind.

_I see you. I see you. I see you_.


	2. Recon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji investigates the mysterious Talon sniper himself.

Perhaps the hardest part was getting people to take him seriously after walking away from Dorado with a rough concussion. Upon inquiring about the Widowmaker, Genji was met with pure dismissal from every direction, as though his exposition was all some injury-induced lunacy.

“Partner, the less I gotta know about Talon, the better.”

“Of course ye can understand if I’m not particularly fond o’ people who wreck my turrets.”

“Oi, love, that Talon witch is really gettin’ to your ‘ead? Don’t worry yourself with ‘er much.”

“Unfortunately, my pupil, the answers you seek lay beyond my understanding.”

Genji’s aggravation grew by the minute. Questioning around the watchpoint was getting him nowhere, and some part of him suspected that Talon would resume their operations in Dorado soon, with or without the sniper. He remembered a lesson his father had taught him as a child, when he was still in training: you cannot win against an enemy you do not know. It made perfect sense for him to gather intel before facing the Talon operative once more. That was all. He was not obsessing. Not even slightly. 

He was _not at all_ captivated by the prowess of a beautiful woman. He was _not at all_ enthralled by the concept of someone who could annihilate him with the twitch of a finger. He did _not_ shudder every time he imagined those lips, devilishly curled, whispering I see you to him once again. And he definitely, _definitely wasn’t_ looking for a rematch based solely on those terms. As a teenager, Hanzo had often mocked Genji, labeling the younger Shimada as a playboy who saw his relationships with the fairer sex as something trivial, a game. How he would laugh now if he knew Genji’s mind had once again floated to the realm of women, but with himself as the lesser role. 

There was one person, however, that did not laugh when Genji mentioned the Widowmaker. Ana had stiffened, patting the chair beside her as she sipped her tea, motioning for Genji to sit, her brow furrowing. The look of someone who’d seen too much. 

“I can’t prove anything quite yet,” she spoke with an air of sadness, “but I think I may know her. She reminds me of the wife of another operative of Overwatch. Former operative, now. Supposedly was killed by the Widowmaker. I can only pray that I’m wrong.”

“So she was not always with Talon?” Genji asked. 

Ana chuckled sadly. “She was once not even able to properly hold a gun. That in itself took many weeks of training. A wonderful woman who loved her husband more than anything. Her name was Amélie.”

“A beautiful name,” Genji murmured. 

“Indeed,” Ana wavered, the early glint of tears in her eyes. She cleared her throat before continuing. “I have hesitated to shoot once ever, and it was against the Widowmaker. She reminds me too much of Amelie, even if I’m wrong. Gerard was killed soon after Amélie went missing, and she has yet to be found. As I said, I can only hope to be wrong now.”

“Thank you for sharing this with me. I’m sorry to have brought up any…unpleasant memories, miss Amari.”

“Oh, don’t fret. Sometimes the sweetest memories are the most painful,” she answered with a melancholy grin, gazing absentmindedly into the bottom of her teacup. Genji frowned. His most painful memories certainly didn’t qualify as something he’d look back on fondly. 

Genji stood, pushing in his chair and leaving Ana to her somber thoughts. As he exited the room, he replayed recent events to himself over and over in his mind. Talon was likely back in Dorado. Widowmaker was likely with Talon, and, should he request it from Morrison, a reconnaissance mission focused around stealth rather than intervention would be an easy way to do more research into Talon’s activities in Dorado. With his tactical abilities, he highly doubted his request for a solo recon operation would be turned down, provided he could come back to the watchpoint unseen and unscathed. This was his ticket to information on Talon’s objectives. 

Certainly it had _nothing_ to do with his fixation on the sniper. Absolutely _not_. 

\---

As such, approval came as no surprise to an eager Genji, geared up and ready to depart in the night the second he received the okay from his higher-ups. Stealth came naturally to Genji, and he effortlessly maneuvered his way around the graffitied walls of Dorado with ease, cautious this time around to stick to the shadows, lest his cover be blown to any particular sniper keeping watch in the area. Talon agents patrolled the streets halfheartedly, lost in idle chat with one another for the most part. She’d be on her guard for sure, actively scanning for new targets every second.

He paused as two Talon agents strode past his hiding place unknowingly, laughing about some poor joke or another. Pressing on, he stole away into every shadow that crossed his path, the true image of a ninja in the night. He rolled his eyes at the thought, silently scaling the side of a rickety building. If she’d be anywhere, it would be on the roofs, nestled somewhere practically invisible with a rifle at the ready. This was a good place to start looking. 

Genji eyed his surroundings precariously, his footsteps light and quick, determined to catch that glint of the rifle barrel he’d seen once before. Of course, the thought had occurred to him that the Widowmaker may not even be on this mission, but he highly doubted Talon would be left to their own devices without the presence of at least one special operative for protection. That having been said, he knew only of one other--a serious threat mentioned under hushed whispers at the watchpoint, a looming shadow set to kill going only by the equally-imposing name of Reaper. Genji shuddered--he heard enough stories from Winston to feel obligated to avoid any Reaper encounters anytime soon. No, he could only hope that Widowmaker had been assigned to this job yet again. 

Having leapt through more than half of Dorado virtually undetected, Genji squinted at every nook and cranny of the rooftops. _Where are you?_ he thought to himself. This whole plan would be a colossal disaster should the sniper spot him before he spotted her--to have the advantage of surprise was essential to not only his objective, but his very survival. Even if this operation took several days, there was no way he could hide from the watchful eyes of a sniper for more than maybe a few minutes, should they be actively looking for threats. 

To his surprise, it was not the glimmer of the barrel that caught his eye, but rather a purple sparkle, delicately blended in with flowers sprouting through a crack in an awning. Genji cringed, vaguely remembering the sensation of fumes scratching the inside of his throat raw. He stilled where he stood, hand reaching back to perch precariously over the hilt of his blade. He moved his head slowly, investigating every possible hiding spot, knowing without a doubt that if he could see the canister, the sniper could see him as well. Likely through the crosshairs of her rifle. He tensed, very slowly letting his hand fall away from his blade, backing himself up against the wall of a two-story building. Even with only three sides to worry about, Genji’s anxiety built steadily as he realized exactly what a poor decision putting himself in this situation was. It was as Mercy had said--he could not always count on being so lucky as last time, should the sniper take aim once more.

“Where are you?” he whispered to himself, sweat beading down the inside of his visor. With an increasing sense of dread, he tilted his head to look up at the awning of the building just above him, mortified to see that all-knowing glimmer of the rifle barrel. He felt fear--and something else he couldn’t quite place--that flooded him with adrenaline, his body trembling silently as he recognized that wicked grin behind the sights of the rifle. 

“Right where I can see you, _mon chéri_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something something canon something


	3. I See You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji finally gets an audience with his obsession, for better or worse.

“To come back a second time...you must have a death wish,” the sniper teased, never wavering from her aim at Genji’s skull. “Do you seek revenge?” she inquired with that grin that made Genji weak in his knees. 

Genji breathed deeply, doing his best to retain his composure despite his crippling vulnerability. “I have long since renounced revenge. I seek answers.”

She scoffed. “As if I would turn that information over to the likes of them.”

“I ask not for Overwatch. I am asking for myself,” Genji clarified, his initial panic wearing off at the realization that Widowmaker did not intend to shoot him just yet. 

“Oh? And to what do I owe the pleasure, _mon chéri_?” she taunted, pulling back from her sights just enough to give Genji some breathing room. 

“You are a worthy foe, even for the likes of Talon. Your aim is unmatched and your cunning is on par with the greatest tacticians of Overwatch. You fight well,” Genji blurted out. His first goal certainly hadn’t been to compliment her on nearly killing him. 

“And you’ve come to tell me that yourself?” she asked, eyes narrowed. 

“Sorry, I guess that’s what happens when you hit someone in the head,” he chuckled. 

Widowmaker didn’t return his amusement. “What exactly do you hope to accomplish here?”

Genji began to sweat nervously. Why exactly was he here? To attempt to reason with the sniper who’d almost shot him dead? To accomplish his so-called “recon mission”? 

“To meet you,” he spoke aloud, grateful for the visor hiding his face as it flushed. 

“You cannot possibly be serious.”

“To know your enemy is to know yourself. You stand no chance against a foe you do not understand. My father told me this as a child.”

Widowmaker lowered her rifle, peering down at Genji with an unreadable expression. “Your father is wise. But do you understand the consequence of coming here?”

“What do you mean?”

The sniper lowered herself to a sitting position, letting her slender legs dangle off the awning. Genji thanked the stars that his visor concealed any staring that may have ensued. “Do you wish to be tried as a traitor?”

“I do not wish to be tried as anything. I wish merely to understand you.”

“Hmph. If I did not know any better, I would assume you must like me,” she continued to tease, crossing her legs.

“No, no no no, that isn’t it,” Genji stammered. He made sure to choose his next words very carefully. “Your skill intrigues me.”

Widowmaker grinned, running a finger along the rifle at her side. “You do not strike me as a stranger to killing either. Does it thrill you?”

“I prefer to do only what is necessary.”

“Why kill if there is no pleasure involved? To each their own, I suppose,” Widowmaker mused. “I cannot expect all who hunt their prey to understand.”

Genji cringed. Had Hanzo thought like this, Genji would be dead several times over. “That is a dark ideology, even for Talon.”

“Oh? And to who exactly do I owe my explanations?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. Genji gulped. To oust himself as a Shimada to a Talon agent was suicide--unless he wanted a gigantic target painted on his back. 

“Genji. I am Genji.”

“Bonjour, Genji. You are an...interesting man, to flirt with death so casually.”

“It is not the first time,” he grumbled. “But that is a tale for another day.”

As Widowmaker opened her mouth to respond, the transmitter in her ear crackled to life with a suddenness that startled Genji. “North quadrant, report in,” a stranger demanded.   
Widowmaker pulled her rifle into her lap, pressing two fingers against the transmitter with disinterest. “All clear in the north quadrant. Proceed as planned.” Genji held his breath, both interested and uncomfortable.

It took all too long for silence to settle over the two assassins once again. The murmur of conversation on the streets below rose in volume--Talon was on the move. 

“This is no place for you,” Widowmaker spoke, as though reading the ninja’s mind. “You may pride yourself on sneaking around, but you will be found sooner or later.”

Remorsefully, Genji couldn’t help but agree. He scanned the rooftops, mentally plotting his escape route back to the dropship set to return him to the watchpoint. “May I see you once again?”

“Ideally, no, but you do not strike me as the type to give up easily, Genji.” 

Genji sighed. “”I can only hope that someday we meet under better circumstances.”

“You have promise. Your blade would be welcomed at Talon, should you change your mind.”

“I appreciate the offer, but there are too many people I must protect.”

Widowmaker rose to her feet, reassuming her watch position with her rifle slung over her shoulder. “What a shame. When next we meet, you would do well to watch your back. This rendezvous means nothing.”

With a solemn nod, Genji began his descent into the shadows, stealthily inching his way back towards his designated safezone. Widowmaker raised her sights to one watchful eye, tracking the Overwatch agent as he disappeared into the night, moonlight glistening over the eaves of weathered houses and shops.

This could be interesting.

\------

Nestled within the safety of the dropship perched just outside the city, Genji set his visor aside, halfheartedly wiping the sweat from his brow as he watched the dust kick up into billowing clouds through the window, the ship’s engine roaring to life. That could’ve gone much worse. 

“Welcome back, love,” a chipper voice sounded over the ship’s intercom. “We’re ‘eadin’ back to the watchpoint from ‘ere. Shouldn’t take too long at all. You go on and rest yourself up. Commander’s gonna want your report in the mornin’. I’ll let ya know when we’re gettin’ close.”

Genji smiled, closing his eyes and leaning back in his seat as the ship lifted off into the night sky. True, he’d have to cobble together some story for his mission report, but official matters could wait. 

She was intimidating, a femme fatale that made him quiver from both terror and excitement. The concept of encountering her in battle again was equal parts thrilling and horrifying, sparking a rush in Genji he hadn’t felt since his youth. He lifted a hand to his head, absentmindedly brushing his fingers over the freshly-buffed metal where her bullet had left a sizable welt prior. 

What a woman. 

\---

Tossing together assorted excuses and rushed conclusions, Genji had slipped his mission report into Morrison’s dropbox by noon, freeing up his afternoon substantially. He hated paperwork. Tracer bounded over to his side, sliding her own flight report from the night prior alongside his with a sincere smile at the younger Shimada brother. 

“Afternoon, Genji. How was your mission yesterday? Any new dirt on what Talon’s been doin'?”

Genji returned her enthusiasm, following her as she headed down the hall towards the training grounds. “Not as much as I would’ve liked to, but we now know there is some significance to Dorado. Talon has now operated continuously in the area for over 48 hours.”

“Huh. Wonder what they’re up to,” she pondered aloud. “Not like ‘em to linger in one spot longer than a day. Either way, good on ya for keepin’ an eye on ‘em. No other reports from Dorado as of late, so there’s no active missions right now.”

“Lazy day, it would seem.”

“Gotta love a break once in awhile ‘round ‘ere. I remember when I first came to Overwatch, everything was chaos, round the clock.”

Genji grinned. “If I remember correctly, we were quite the sparring partners.”

“Back when Genji was an angry little bugger all the time, right?” Tracer teased. 

He laughed warmly. “I have only grown stronger, regardless of how “angry” you found me to be.”

Tracer spun on her heel, gesturing wildly towards the approaching entrance to the training grounds. “You makin’ a threat, there, love? Think we oughta settle this one on one?”

“Just as in the old days,” he shot back, sprinting ahead into one of the testing rooms, his voice bouncing off of the walls. “I will not go easy on you, as I did back then.”

“You got some nerve, tryin’ ta press my buttons like that. Let’s see if ya got the skill to back that tough talk up, huh?”

Genji assumed his battle stance with a grin. _These are the people I want to protect,_ he thought to himself. Regardless of his curiosity about Widowmaker, his friends came first and foremost. “Come on! Show me how you’ve improved.”

“You’re right testin’ me, ya are,” she growled playfully, lunging towards him with pistols blazing. “Bring it on!”

These were his friends, his family. Overwatch was his home, and Overwatch definitely came before Talon, no matter how enthralled he was with the sniper. This was where he belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I'm pacing this at least semi-decently because there's shit going down up ahead, but not quite yet


	4. Downtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji learns something that complicates everything.

“Ya got lucky, ya did,” Tracer grumbled in between hearty gulps from a bottle of water. She leaned back against the wall, dripping sweat and completely drained, but laced with the pleasant adrenaline that followed a good workout.

Genji chuckled. “Luck has nothing to do with it. Your skills have improved remarkably, though. Be proud of your accomplishments.”

“Thanks, love. You ain’t so bad y’self. Y’know, for a ninja.”

As Genji started to protest, the steel door of the entrance creaked open to reveal a bemused Hanzo. Genji waved to his brother, in too good of a mood to dredge up his aggravation from several days ago. “Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, brother. Hard at work, I see?” he spoke with a smile, pulling the door shut behind him. 

“Gettin’ lucky with his shots is more like it,” Tracer complained, a hint of playfulness in her voice as she winked at Genji. 

“I’m sure he is,” Hanzo added with a smirk in Genji’s direction. Genji threw up his hands in mock exasperation. “I trust you are healing well?”

“Of course.” He stretched as if to illustrate his point. “I have no doubt in Dr. Ziegler.” 

“Nor do I. However, that was quite the shot you took. I’m glad you are alright, Genji.”

Tracer and Genji exchanged smiles. An exchange apart from an argument between the Shimada brothers was a rarity, but warmed Genji’s heart nonetheless. 

“Gotta be rough, puttin’ extra stress on yourself with that recon mission ya did,” Tracer added cheerfully, sucking down the last of her water. Genji cringed. 

“Recon mission?” Hanzo asked, eyes narrowing. “I thought you were supposed to be resting.”

Well, the tender moment was nice while it lasted. 

“It was nothing. I was requested to gather additional information about Talon’s activities in Dorado.” To explain his desire to return to Dorado of his own volition would’ve been far more awkward, let alone dangerous. “From what I’ve gathered, there is no imminent threat to the people of Dorado at this time.”

“That is all well, but I would prefer they not send you back to the very place you almost lost your life. Was that sniper there?”

“No,” Genji lied. “Thankfully.”

“Good. I pray that you do not come across her again, for your own safety.”

_That makes one of us,_ Genji thought. Regardless of his personal knowledge of Widowmaker, his brother’s subtle hints at Genji’s incompetence in battle never failed to strike a nerve, no matter how minuscule. He resisted the urge to make a comment about Hanzo being an equal threat to his health. 

“Really, Hanzo, Genji’s gonna be fine. You Shimadas can really hold your own in combat. Nothin’ to fear there,” Tracer offered. 

“Besides, if it’s snipers you’re worried about, only one has ever actually killed me,” Genji muttered disdainfully. Tracer punched his arm lightly, shooting him a glare. 

“I didn’t come ‘ere to see you two bicker like an old married couple. Play nice.”

“Well,” Hanzo continued, doing his best to pretend he hadn’t heard Genji’s snarky remarks, “so long as you are well, that is all I need. It is good seeing you, brother.”

“Always a pleasure,” Genji replied halfheartedly as Hanzo exited just as quietly as he came in. Tracer nudged him gently with a cold water bottle, offering a supportive smile. 

“He really isn’t tryin’ to get on your nerves, love. Just wants what’s best for ya. You’re the one who told me he was a changed man, now, eh?”

Genji rolled his eyes--although he felt that Tracer could tell, visor or not. “I don’t want him to look down on me. I am not incompetent.”

“No one’s sayin’ ya are, Genji. Don’t stress about it. Now drink your water. Ziegler’s gonna kill me if I don’t keep ya hydrated.” She twisted the cap off, handing the cold beverage to the ninja with a smile. 

“Thank you, Lena.” He took several tentative sips, leaning up against the wall beside her. 

“I get where he’s comin’ from, though. That Talon sniper’s some nasty business,” she continued, giving a wary look to Genji. 

“You don’t say. Pretty sure that is a lecture I’ve gotten many times over by now.”

“I mean it, though. What with Mondatta, and the incident at King’s Row, a right mess, that was. Still can’t sleep right over it.”

Genji paused mid-drink, scrambling to swallow before he choked himself. “What is this about Mondatta and the sniper?”

Tracer’s eyes widened. “You didn’t know? The Widowmaker’s the one that shot Mondatta. Nearly killed me in the process.”

“Shot as in...killed? That was her?” Genji cringed. Whatever feelings he had regarding the Talon sniper were about to get extremely complicated, and he knew it. 

“Who else could’a made that shot, love? Not quite a big fan of her either. Shame, that was, major damage to the omnic community.”

Of course, Genji was no stranger to the stories of Tekhartha Mondatta, his wise teachings of equality under the iris that had been passed down among the Shambali monks of Nepal. His master’s master, the one who taught Zenyatta the joys of being. How his downfall at the hands of Talon sent shockwaves throughout London, and, eventually, the world. But to imagine Widowmaker making that fatal shot made him sick to (what was left of) his stomach. And to think he’d once considered discussing this whole Widowmaker mess with Zenyatta. 

“You’re sure it was her?” 

“Sure as I know my own name, sadly.”

“And do the...others know?”

“Nahh, ‘cept the higher-ups. Not somethin’ I felt comfortable dropping around Zenyatta if he was gonna be goin’ on missions against Talon. I know he’s big on forgiveness and all, but some things are a little too hard to get past without a grudge.”

Genji snorted. “I know what that can be like.”

“I never even wanted you to find out. Not like this. I’m real sorry, Genji. Must be hard for you, havin’ a close call with the same exact sniper and all.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “It is definitely shocking, to say the least.”

\----

“You want I should walk you back to your quarters?”

“Thank you, Lena, but I think I need some fresh air,” a disheartened Genji replied dejectedly, his mind running a mile a minute. “You take some time for yourself. But thank you, again.”

“Always nice gettin’ to see you again, y’know? Hope you’re gonna be alright, love.” With that, Tracer headed towards her room, offering a wave and a sad smile back to Genji over her shoulder. Genji, instead, headed towards the outside deck, a stable slab of wood and concrete on Gibraltar’s rocky cliffsides that offered a gorgeous overlook of the ocean. The sun had just begun to dip down into the water--a sight that always put his soul at peace. He rested his legs over the edge of the cliff, watching with interest as a loose pebble tumbled dozens of feet down into the choppy waves far below. He closed his eyes, fixating on the gentle sounds of the ocean, and began to meditate as best as he could with a fully-occupied mind. 

His interest in the Talon sniper could not quite be described as romantic interest, nor a fleeting subject of fascination that would fade in time. Should she have just been another pretty face, that would’ve been one thing. However, Ana’s anecdote about the kidnapped ballerina--what was her name again? Amélie, he was mostly sure--resonated in what little empathetic part of him remained. Should Captain Amari be right, the sniper was not an inherently evil person, but rather a victim of circumstance. Regardless, that was the same set of rules that had once pitted him against his own brother in combat. As such, it was not so simple as to attribute a matter of misfortune to Widowmaker’s direct hand in Mondatta’s demise. To mention Mondatta’s killer in Zenyatta’s presence and expect support on the matter was foolish. To hide it from his master, whom he trusted with his very being, was equally as painful for the younger Shimada brother. 

“A beautiful sunset. May I meditate alongside you?” came a soft and metallic tone, not unsimilar to bells or wind chimes. Genji quickly snapped out of his thoughts, patting the soft grass beside him as his master floated out onto the deck. 

“O-Of course, master Zenyatta. You are always welcome to meditate with me.”

“Pardon me, I did not mean to disturb your thoughts,” Zenyatta apologized, serenely taking his place at the cliffside beside Genji. 

“No, it is quite alright. I was just a bit...startled.”

“Perhaps I have come at a bad time. Does something trouble you, my student?”

Genji’s stomach twisted into thick knots. This was not a conversation he wanted to have, nor one he was by any means ready for. “I’m sorry, master, but it is something I must sort on my own.”

To his surprise, Zenyatta nodded in understanding. “Indeed, sometimes problems arise that only we, in the depths of our souls, can understand. Just know that you are always welcome to share your thoughts with me. You have friends all around you who only wish to help. As for now, do not look so forlorn. Enjoy this sunset with me.”

Genji smiled. “Thank you, master.”

“It is truly a lovely sight,” Zenyatta contemplated, prompting a pleasant silence to settle over the teacher and his pupil as the two meditated in peace. Genji, however, could not come to terms with peace--as the sun set over the horizon and the moon began to emerge, so too did his troubles, which had only just begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some basic plot coming up soon I swear lmao


	5. Briefing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The daily duties of Overwatch go on, regardless of how Genji feels. It's good to have a mission again.

The following morning finally offered Genji a solid distraction from the chaos of his own thoughts, Everyone currently stationed at the watchpoint had been summoned to the conference room, courtesy of Commander Morrison for what Genji could only assume was the bi-weekly run-of-the-mill mission briefing. Being assigned to a mission was always less stressful than planning his own, and for this, he was relieved. The conference table was gigantic, the atmosphere of the meeting place comparable to an auditorium. The scent of hastily-brewed coffee wafted past--a taste that Genji bitterly regretted not being able to completely enjoy nowadays. Tracer, unceremoniously plopping down in the seat next to him, set her feet up on the table, winking at him. Nothing new there--Morrison rolled his eyes in her direction, but Genji knew he would let Tracer get away with murder, should it come down to it.

“Alright, children, hush,” Ana spoke from beside Morrison. “We’ve got quite a bit to go over today.” She gestured broadly at Jack, who cleared his throat loudly. 

“Okay, first of all, good morning, thanks for getting your asses out of bed and showing up. Some of you in particular.”

“Ya couldn’t have these meetings after the sun comes up?” Junkrat mumbled on Genji’s left. 

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t negotiate with terrorists. Alright, so, first thing’s first, we’ve got three major events coming up this week, all of which need still need assigning. On Tuesday morning at 0800 hours, we’ll be dispatching the Ecopoint group to Antartica to continue work on recovery of lost data from the climatologist group.”

Mei, several seats down, waved at Morrison happily. Genji smiled. 

“As such, we’ll be using the normal drop team of Zarya and Zenyatta as additional units, given their familiarity with colder climates and ability to work well as a team alongside Mei. Mei, of course, will be continuing her data collection and picking up whatever’s still needed.”

“Commander?” Mei interrupted. “We seem to have a blizzard warning in effect for the Ecopoint area running through the mission period. I’ve only just picked it up on the radar this morning.”

“Definitely some helpful information. Athena, make a note to double down on rations and emergency supply kits in the event of a communications blackout. And you two need to dress warmly.”

“It is not so bad, Commander. The cold in Russia is far worse than any old ice storm could be,” Zarya shot back, beaming. Mei frowned. 

“At least bring yourself some mittens, Zarya. You can’t fight well with frostbite, you know.”

“Shall I be requiring mittens as well?” Zenyatta asked with an air of innocence that made Genji giggle, along with a handful of other Overwatch members around the table. 

“ _Anyway_ ,” Morrison continued, “with blizzards comes low visibility. I think it would be beneficial to have someone with high mobility and a sharp eye come along on this mission as well. For that reason, Hanzo, I would like you to accompany Ms. Ling-Zhou on her mission, unless you have any objections.”

Junkrat completely lost it, quickly accompanied by a hysterical Tracer. “You...you’re gonna send this bloke out lookin’ like that??”

“Hanzo, love, you’re gonna freeze your nip-nop off. Ya think about packin’ a sweater?”

Hanzo cringed as the two were joined with snickers from around the table, Genji included. “I can assure you, my nip--I mean, my body will be fine. A Shimada trains to excel in all environments. A dragon cannot be stopped by the cold.”

“Yer nipples sure can, though,” McCree chuckled, sending Tracer and Junkrat into another round of hysterics. 

“Look, love, I’m not tellin’ ya you gotta change, just maybe pull the shirt up for once, yeah?”

“This discussion is over,” Morrison continued, shaking his head. Genji smirked, noticing the commander’s grin and shaking shoulders betraying him despite his words. “Tomorrow morning, 0800, and that’ll be you four. Mission briefings will be delivered to your quarters shortly. Second, we’ve got two events back-to-back within a 12-hour time span on Friday. First up is the charity concert in Rio, which will be headed by not one, but two superstars.” He gestured vaguely in the direction of Lúcio and D.Va, seated alongside one another and vibrating with excitement. 

“We’re hopin’ a gaming icon and a world-renowned DJ can draw enough attention to make a difference,” Lúcio replied, beaming. “All the money’s goin’ to the orphanages and the rebuilding of the poorest districts of the city. Been plannin’ for months for this one.”

“I wish you two the best of luck. Now, unfortunately, we haven’t gotten any assignments on this one yet. We’re gonna need a handful of agents for security purposes. Two idols need their bodyguards.”

Tracer raised her hand. “Commander, I’d like to volunteer for this one. See, Lúcio hooked up my Emily with front-row tickets, and I wanna be there to make sure she’s doin’ alright, y’know?”

Ana smiled softly. “How is Emily doing these days, Lena?”

“She’s doin’ great, Captain. Got a promotion at the shop last week, she did. Real proud of her.”

“I see no reason to deny Lena this assignment, Morrison,” Ana added, grinning at Jack. “Let the girls have some fun.”

“Blame that one on me, Commander. Tossed ‘em the tickets way before I knew this was gonna be a guarded operation,” Lúcio continued. 

“I’ve got no problems with that. Lena is a fine bodyguard. I’d like to get at least one or two more, though.”

“Unfortunately, I do not think my presence in Rio will be beneficial for anyone,” Symmetra remarked sadly, raising her hand. “I doubt those poor people have forgotten what Vishkar has done to their city. I must decline this operation.”

Lúcio and Morrison nodded in agreement. “Don’t take it personal or nothin’,” Lúcio offered. 

“Frankly, I don’t dare ask Reinhardt. He’s not too fond of modern music,” Morrison continued, laughing. 

“I will hold my tongue. Let me know when it is the classics,” Reinhardt mumbled, crossing his arms. Lúcio stuck his tongue out playfully at the German. 

Junkrat smiled sweetly at Jack, a shit-eating grin the soldier knew all too well. “If ya ain’t mind a few fireworks, I’d be happy to lend a hand.”

“You stay where the hell I can see you,” Morrison growled. “I really don’t think dropping a wanted terrorist off at a concert is a bright idea. I’d like you and Mako to stay here at the base with Amari and I this week. Gonna need some extra backup with those Talon operatives lurking around Dorado recently, just in case they’re up to anything.”

“Err, if I may,” Torbjorn interrupted, raising his hand, “I’ve got some work t’do with the prototype turrets this week. Can’t be spending much time out on missions until the work is done.”

“Of course. So long as you’re fine lending a hand in an emergency.”

“Jeez,” Junkrat muttered. “All y’all old windbags are a handful in one place.” Roadhog lightly punched his partner in the shoulder, motioning for him to be quiet. Jamison scowled in return.

Pharah’s hand shot up next. “I am sure Helix Security would be happy to aid with such a generous event. I can make contact within several hours and confirm eight to ten additional guards under my command.”

“Excellent. To have Helix on our side for a humanitarian event is a good call, especially with crowd control. I’ll be leaving this one up to you, Fareeha.” Pharah saluted, her mother beaming proudly at her daughter’s ability to take command.

“Now, last but not least,” Commander Morrison continued, “we’ve got a high-scale event going on the same night as the Rio concert. As you may have already heard, our own Dr. Ziegler has been selected to attend a world-class medical science conference in England. There, she will receive a hefty grant for her continued research and present a short lecture on her findings regarding the Valkyrie Suit and its applications in the field of emergency medicine. Really fancy stuff, here, so I’m gonna need any operatives on this one to lay low. Of course, that means you’re up, Genji.”

Genji bowed his head politely. So long as he wasn’t the main attraction of a medical breakthrough seminar, he supposed this mission would provide a long-needed break from the inner turmoil that had been plaguing him all week. “It would be my pleasure. I look forward to working alongside you, Dr. Ziegler.” He smiled at the doctor, who returned his affections.

“Hey, doc, if you’re lookin’ for layin’ low, I’m your man,” McCree added, raising his own hand.

Angela giggled. “Pardon me, Jesse, but you do not strike me as the type to blend in.” She pointed to his cowboy hat, to which he feigned offense.

“I’ll have ya know that back in the day I was hard to find as a Texas rattler in a dust devil. I gotcha covered on this one.”

Hanzo narrowed his eyes in confusion. “A Texas _what_?”

“Alright,” Jack interjected. “I’ll accept that one. Genji, Jesse, you two will be on recon duty in King’s Row. I want you in constant communication with Dr. Ziegler at all times, and I want you to be on your guard. This is a high-profile mission and quite a bit riskier than Rio or the Ecopoint. Keep an eye out for any shady figures in attendance, and operate quietly.”

“Just like the ol’ days in Blackwatch, eh, Shimada?” McCree added, winking at Genji with a grin. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? the ninja thought to himself. Despite his overall appearance, if anyone was going to be as good of a partner as Tracer, it was McCree himself--the two had worked together with spectacular success in the past.

“Everyone not assigned I’d like to have remain at the base to continue independent research and be on standby for emergency dispatch. That more or less wraps things up for today. Dismissed.”

Tracer leaned towards Genji as the room slowly emptied, operatives shuffling through the single exit in a leisurely fashion, conversing excitedly about their newly-assigned missions for the week. “Sorry I won’t be in England with ya for this one, love. You gonna be alright?”

“Do not worry. Jesse is a fine partner. I hope that you and Emily enjoy yourselves, truly.” He smiled behind his visor, offering her a thumbs-up. Tracer returned the gesture--a show of solidarity exclusive to them and only them that always made Genji feel a little less alone. Lena beamed, blipping out of the room and leaving Genji alone with McCree and Mercy.

“I suppose we should begin our planning?” the doctor offered, folding her hands.

McCree tipped his hat, and Genji nodded approvingly, his mind already abuzz with mission strategies instead of the conflicting thoughts that had followed him mercilessly. Truly, he was at his most peaceful when he had someone to protect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating a day early this week because of hurricane Irma lmao 
> 
> Here's your plot setup btw


	6. Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite his nerves, Genji does his best on his mission.

The days leading up to the conference passed uneventfully, with jabs at Hanzo’s apparel prior to his departure sprinkled here and there (of which Genji was guilty of a snicker or two). Genji followed his usual training regimen, hammering the finer details of the mission into his mind as Dr. Ziegler prepared her presentation thoroughly. The Ecopoint group departed without incident, Zarya and Zenyatta happily chatting away whilst boarding the ship in a way that warmed Genji’s heart--and to think that the bodybuilder had once despised omnics. Lúcio and D.Va were hard at work bustling about the watchpoint, decorations piled high in their arms as they enthusiastically prepped for the Rio concert.

“Genji, my man, how’s your handwriting?” Lúcio had stopped to ask as the ninja stretched, gliding by his quarters with arms full of auxiliary cords.

“Arguably far better than yours,” he shot back, smirking behind his visor. 

“I know you’re gettin’ ready for your fancy-pants conference with the doc, but you think you got time to lend a hand? Havin’ trouble getting some posters to come out nice and pretty.”

“You are asking the wrong person. I am sure Symmetra is far better at art than myself, with impeccable handwriting as well.”

“Damn, dude, didn’t even think of askin’ her. Thanks anyway!” Lúcio called behind him, skating away as fast as he came, followed by the distant sound of Commander Morrison lecturing him for skating in the halls once again. 

“Not much of a party animal, huh?” came a southern drawl Genji recognized all too well. He smiled, stepping out of his quarters into the hallway. 

“Dragons are not one to party, Jesse.”

“But I reckon they’re good for high-class stuff like this ol’ England thing. You all ready to head out in a bit?” the cowboy added, tipping his hat as a courtesy. 

“Absolutely. So long as I have my blade, I am always ready.”

McCree chuckled. “My Peacekeeper’s inclined to agree with ya there. Y’seen the doctor around?”

Shuffling footsteps echoed down the corridor, and with them came a (slightly frazzled) Dr. Ziegler. “I’m here, I’m here!”

Genji bowed politely as Mercy joined their impromptu hallway meeting, hands loaded with clipboards and coffee. Despite the stress, she beamed at her two guards as brightly as always. 

McCree tilted his hat once more, this time in Mercy’s direction. “Been meanin’ to ask ya, doc, but you gonna pretty yourself up for tonight?”

Angela laughed. “Hardly. This presentation is entirely focused on the schematics and inner workings of the Valkyrie Suit and the Caduceus Staff. I shall be attending in full battle regalia. Besides, I’m not very fond of heels.”

Genji felt more at ease knowing Mercy was ready to go should trouble arise, dare it make the mistake of rising on his watch. “When will you be ready? Jesse and I have completed all of our preparations.”

“Believe it or not, I just finished up the last of the work I needed to get done here. Everything else I can polish off on the flight there,” she responded with a smile, holding up a flash drive between two fingers. “Just remember this information isn’t public quite yet, so no civilians will be present at the symposium. I’ll be trusting the two of you to keep what you hear to yourselves and to Overwatch.”

Genji nodded. McCree lifted a finger to his lips in a gesture of silence. “Our little secret, doc. You’ve got my word.”

“In that case, our flight is more or less ready to go as soon as we are. Tracer is piloting the flight to Rio, so Athena is helping us out with autopilot routes and the like.”

“The sooner we get to England, the sooner we can get a feel for the area we’ll be surveyin’. I’m ready to head on out whenever you are,” McCree added with a grin. 

“Then it’s settled,” Mercy spoke with confidence, the group steadily trudging down the hall in the general direction of the docking bay. Mercy sipped at her coffee delicately, flipping through her notes with a spare finger as she walked. 

Genji smiled. A caffeinated Angela was a happy Angela. 

\---

The Rio dropship and the King’s Row dropship departed within ten minutes of one another (although it was hard not to tell when Lúcio was leaving--as it turned out, a good chunk of those auxiliary cords had been for the musician to blast his latest album over the ship’s sound system). McCree had napped the entire flight, tilting his hat over his eyes and kicking his feet up on one of the ship’s tables. Mercy worked diligently on polishing up her presentation, fingers pounding away at her laptop keys whenever they weren’t wrapped around yet another cup of coffee. Genji knew better than to question the logic of a doctor overindulging in caffeine, lest he face her substantially-stressed wrath. 

The odds of Talon interference with the conference were low--aside from McCree and Genji, the local venue’s security had eyes everywhere. Even Widowmaker would have trouble sneaking past such tight security. Regardless, once landed, Genji promptly gave his best wishes to Dr. Ziegler before securing his spot on the venue roof, admiring the gorgeous site of the moonrise over King’s Row for the first time in quite awhile. To imagine such a tragedy as Mondatta’s murder had occurred in this very city--and by the hands of Widowmaker, no less--made Genji uneasy. 

“Test, testing,” the tiny transmitter wired through his visor crackled, a serene voice at its helm. “Are you gentlemen all set to go?”

“Copy that, partner,” a southern twang followed shortly after. 

Genji pressed two fingers to a node on the side of his visor. “Everything is in place, doctor.”

“Wonderful. We will start the conference shortly, and the venue security should have all entrances on lockdown. Still, stay alert. I’ll check in with you two in a bit.”

“Good luck on your presentation, Dr. Ziegler,” Genji added with a smile, relishing Angela’s happy laughter on the other side. _That’s right--this time I am not alone_ , he reminded himself. Should any sniper appear, he would be ready, close allies at his side prepared to engage alongside him in combat. 

Fortunately (and someone uneventfully for the poor Shimada), no such sniper appeared. No such disturbance of any variety appeared, and Genji quickly grew bored, occasionally picking up hints of thunderous applause from inside the conference hall below. Regardless, Genji was content to gaze at the night sky in contemplation, a sense of peace not unlike the security he felt with Zenyatta washing over him. Out of habit, his trained eyes snapped to so much as a gust of the evening breeze rattling a tree, or to the stray cats here and there that trotted down stone streets, on the prowl for dinner. He smiled softly at a particular moth drawn to the gentle green light emitted by the LEDs in his armor, amused with how it fluttered around happily before departing in search of other bright objects. Thirty minutes crawled by silently, and then an hour. Two hours. Genji smirked--he’d be willing to bet Tracer would kill for a moment of peace in Rio right now. 

“Didja know y’all left the bathroom window in the men’s room cracked open?” McCree complained over the transmitter, catching Genji so off-guard that the ninja couldn’t help but laugh heartily. “Look, doc, you think a bunch’a smarty-pants doctors would know better than to let in the cold when a man’s doin’ his business.”

“Jesse, that’s not what this line is for at all,” Mercy scolded in a harsh whisper, although the twinge of repressed laughter in her voice only made Genji laugh harder, doubled over on the roof as he imagined what Angela’s face looked like right now.

“I’m not tryin’ to start a problem, I’m just sayin’ it don’t look very good when a professional’s airin’ himself out either, now. Second time I had to shut the dang thing.”

“Jesse,” Genji stuttered out in between laughs that made his stomach cramp, “what on earth are you doing in the bathroom?”

“Y’already know what I’m doin’ in here, boy. Anyway, it only opens maybe a good five or six inches, so yer toilets are safe and sound. Not from mosquitoes, though, I got a bad feelin’ there.”

“Jesse, get off the line unless you have something important to share,” Mercy growled under her breath. 

“I gotcha, I gotcha. No please and thank you from anyone anymore, huh?”

Genji lifted his fingers to the visor node to add a snarky remark from the discussion, but quickly turned around at the sound of a branch snapping just yards below. He tensed, his eyes scanning the ground rapidly for any signs of movement. The more rational part of his mind reassured him again and again that Talon would have no business here, and that not every bump in the night was a bad guy waiting to pounce. Still, his fingers twitched, one hand gradually nearing the blade on his back. Another branch snapped just a few feet away from the first, and Genji let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding as a pair of raccoons scampered past, likely searching for what remained of the at-the-door appetizers served hours ago. He kicked himself for being foolish--he knew better than to be jumpy, especially given the nature of his mission. 

At this realization, he cringed. Thus far it hadn’t occurred to him how badly his encounter with the sniper had shaken him mentally. Which encounter had been worse, he couldn’t tell. 

Occupying himself with the night sky once more, Genji breathed a sigh of relief as the conference came to a close minutes later, well-dressed men and women streaming from the front entrance just as they had come, cheerfully giving one another regards and congratulatory handshakes. A mission performed without a hitch was not exactly uncommon, but a welcome job for a stressed Genji, particularly considering the nature of the last few he’d embarked on. As the flow of the crowd thinned, he dismounted from the roof, happy to stretch his legs again after being on lookout for most of the night. He peeked around the corner, watching the last of the professionals bid each goodnight before climbing into their escort vehicles. He didn’t dare go inside a medical conference looking like...well, like himself. The last thing he needed tonight was the added anxiety of being looked at like a scientific marvel rather than a living being. Again.

McCree rounded the corner opposite of Genji’s side, tipping his hat in the ninja’s direction with a grin. “Looks like yer in the clear, partner. Nothin’ round these parts except geniuses. Got some funny writin’ in the bathroom, though, for how uppity this place is ‘posed to be.”

The intercom crackled once more, both agents lifting their hands to their head at the same time. “I am happy to say that the presentation was a success. They’ve even offered another set of grants towards the continued research efforts of Overwatch. A successful evening, quite. The dropship is en route and will be here shortly.”

Genji smiled. “Congratulations, Dr. Ziegler. I look forward to hearing about your experience back at the watchpoint. Will you be coming out soon?”

“I intend to be, but I think I misplaced my flash drive. Have either of you seen it?”

“That lil’ one ya had before we left? How in the world would it get out here?” McCree chuckled. 

Angela returned his laughter. “Very true, Jesse. Then again, not much point in hanging onto a presentation after it’s finished. I suppose if I leave the flash drive here, no harm is done either way. The cleanup crew is very thorough. Fine, then, I will grab my files and be right out.”

Genji wandered alongside McCree, pacing the marble halls just beyond the entrance. “Y’gotta see this garbage before we go,” he added excitedly, vaguely gesturing to the men’s restroom. 

The ninja laughed as he pushed the door open--aside from the vulgar writing on the walls beside the urinals, the bathroom was practically pristine. He wondered if this place had those fancy self-cleaning toilets he remembered hearing about. McCree had been right about one thing--some of the poetry scribbled beside the utilities was downright hilarious, while some was creative and more akin to graffiti. He particularly liked the small black-and-purple skull just beneath the windowsill, still shimmering as though the marker was wet. 

“Genji, Jesse,” a panicked voice sparked to life over the transmitter, “did one of you mess with my work laptop?”

“‘Course not, doc. What’s wrong?”

“I...all of my files are gone.”

\--- 

The flight home had Genji and McCree tossing one another worried looks as Mercy pounded away at her laptop keys, sweat beading her brow as her movements became increasingly frantic. She whined under her breath, tears swelling as anguish settled on her shoulders. 

“Perhaps it is a bug, Dr. Ziegler. Don’t stress,” Genji had offered. “They cannot just be...gone, as you say.”

“I pray they aren’t,” she whimpered. “Some of those aren’t backed up at the watchpoint and were experimental documents.”

“I’m sure it’s nothin’ y’can’t fix,” McCree spoke reassuringly, placing a gentle hand on Angela’s shoulder. 

“Yes, but that is hours of my time gone. Details of the presentation I intended to solidify in a research paper at home were in there. There were even some mechanical schematics I’d been going over to edit, like Genji’s...Genji,” she caught herself, glancing nervously in the younger Shimada’s direction. Genji turned his head--feeling like a science experiment was always particularly aggravating, and a sore spot between him and Dr. Ziegler for sure. Still, he bit his tongue, somewhat glad any documents pertaining to him were gone, if at least for the time being. 

“Look, doc, I’m sure we can get Winston to take a look at it. Probably a bug like Genji said. He’s always been good with computers and fancy tech stuff. Don’t stress yourself out, not after all this work y’been doin’ tonight, alright?” McCree continued, rubbing Angela’s back as the frustrated doctor wiped away her tears. 

She smiled softly. “Thank you, Jesse. And you too, Genji.”

“Incoming transmission,” a deep robotic tone sounded over the dropship’s intercom system, quickly replaced with static. The three agents looked up at the source of the noise in confusion. 

“Hey, you three,” Commander Morrison spoke gravely. “I know you’re just wrapping things up on your end, but I’m gonna need you at that concert pronto. Patching over the details now. Athena’s rerouting that flight.”

Already stressed, Angela frowned, rubbing her temples. “Commander, what’s wrong?”

Jack sighed. “Trouble in Rio. _Big_ trouble.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to stockpile more chapters of this because I got screwed over after the hurricane and I'm trying to figure out which direction I want the next five or six chapters to go.


	7. Rio, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What should've been a night of peace and charity takes a turn for the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might start updating this a little less frequently, maybe every two weeks or something, since midterms are coming up and I haven't had much time to sit and write.

Admittedly, Junkrat had never been very good at following directions. When they came from Morrison, disobedience was almost a challenge--as such, one way or another, the two junkers had managed to sneak their way into the cargo bay of the Rio-bound dropship virtually unnoticed. Waiting several minutes after landing until everyone had departed offered the perfect opportunity to explore the city, lest Jamison be stuck with the Overwatch nursing home community for hours on end. He was rather pleased with how easy it had been to elude detection (although he suspected that this particular group of agents wouldn’t have ratted him out to Morrison even if he’d been caught), and would’ve been content to sit back and watch the noise and havoc of the concert had it not been for one peculiar discovery. 

“He found a bomb,” Morrison relayed to the stunned England team. “Pre-wired and armed, just sitting in the concert vicinity. No one was around, thankfully, but obviously you can see the problem we’re having here.”

“Now why’d ya have to go and disrupt a concert like that?” McCree wondered aloud. “Ain’t nobody got problems with Rio, from what I know.”

Mercy frowned, absentmindedly reaching for her pistol. “It doesn’t matter. The district where the concert is being held is a poor region, like Lúcio said. They have little, if any, medical aid should a situation arise.”

“Exactly,” Morrison chimed in over the loudspeaker. “And according to Fawkes, this wasn’t some homemade bomb either. High-quality technology, from someone who knows what they’re doing.”

Genji cringed, as though he could tell where this was going already. “Talon?”

“That can’t be,” Mercy cried. “Talon does not have a demolitionist!”

“We cannot underestimate them. If this truly is Talon, it could be related to whatever was happening in Dorado.” 

McCree rose from his seat, flicking the brim of his hat up off of his eyes.“Partner, I reckon if it’s Talon, more than a few people are gonna bite the dust tonight. You two got any objections to headin’ over and lendin’ a hand?”

Mercy and Genji shook their heads in unison. McCree broke into a wide grin. “Let’s mosey on over, then.”

“The autopilot coordinates have already been sent to your ship, and Athena can get you to Rio from there. Fastest we can get you from England to Brazil is still a few hours, so take your time planning and make sure you’re ready to fight, should something happen. Above all, stay low and prioritize the safety of the civilians. The Rio team is being notified as we speak and the watchpoint is on full alert. And the three of you, please,” the soldier continued, a hint of genuine concern in his voice, “stay safe. Watch each other’s backs.”

Even with Talon around, there were no two better partners Genji would want to fight alongside--he would easily trust both McCree and Dr. Ziegler with his life. He repeated his mantra from England to himself again and again: Overwatch takes priority over Talon. Overwatch always took priority over Talon, and he couldn’t afford to hesitate in battle. 

Genji squeezed his eyes shut tightly behind his visor, and prayed, to whatever deity would listen, that the sniper wouldn’t be there when he landed. 

 

\---

“How’s everyone doin’ down there tonight?” Lúcio shouted enthusiastically, answered by the deafening roar of the crowd, packed tightly around the makeshift stage. The DJ grinned, waving his arms playfully along with the audience to the fast beat of the music. “Yo, you think you’re havin’ fun now, do I got a surprise for you. We out here tonight to make a difference, and sometimes two heads are better than one. So I might maybe sorta kinda have a guest with me tonight. Y’all probably don’t know her, she’s got like, what, five subscribers on her stream now?”

“Excuse you,” Hana growled playfully, strutting onto the stage and snatching the microphone from Lucio’s hands. The crowd went ballistic at the surprise reveal--Lúcio was pretty sure he saw at least two people start crying. D.Va relished the attention, posing and blowing kisses at the audience. She tossed the mic back to Lúcio, brandishing a second one she’d brought along. “Not gonna lie, I always wanted to go to a Lúcio concert.”

“Boy, I swear, lemme tell this story real quick--few years ago I was watchin’ D.Va’s stream for the third or fourth time, and she started playin’ one of my songs in the background, and if you have never seen a grown man cry--”

“Ohmygod, you have _no_ idea how hard I flipped when I found out Lúcio watched my streams. I found out in the middle of a match and swore the chat was trolling me.”

“So the moral of the story,” Lúcio concluded, vaguely gesturing towards Hana, “is that it was the bomb meeting D.Va and there’s no one else I’d rather share the stage with.” 

“Kiss her!” a thick British accent rose from the audience, sparking another round of excited screaming. 

“It ain’t that kinda show, girl! I mean, I’m not objectin’, and if you donate enough, maybe--”

“ _Sellooooout_ ,” Hana sing-songed. 

“Okay, look, get back to me in like, I dunno, two hours? I’ll think about it. Right now I got music on the brain, how ‘bout everyone else?” Another beat started up gradually, the crowd jumping and fist-pumping along with Lúcio. Hana danced alongside the DJ, beaming as the engaged audience cheered their every move. 

Down in the swarming mass of fans, Tracer bounced on her heels to the music, fingers interlocked with her girlfriend as they swayed to the rhythm. She stepped back with grace, spinning a giggling Emily with one hand. 

“I can’t believe you told them to kiss,” Emily laughed, swaying her hips to the beat. 

“Ehh, I mess with Lúcio all the time. They’d make a good couple, though, yeah?”

Emily smirked, pulling Tracer closer to her, their bodies practically touching as they danced. “Better couple than us?”

Tracer brushed a few stray hairs out of Emily’s face, kissing her forehead softly. “Don’t go gettin’ sassy on me, love. You havin’ a good time?”

“The best. I’m not keeping you from any Overwatch business, right?”

Tracer chuckled. “Would you believe me if I said this actually counts as Overwatch business?”

“I’d been wondering how you got those front-row tickets.”

“You good dancin’ here for a minute? Been wantin’ to go get us some drinks.”

Emily smiled. “If they have punch, couldja snag me a cup? Oh, and say hello to Mr. Morrison for me whenever you have to do your security check-in. I don’t really plan much on moving from this spot right here, so you do whatever it is you need to do, love.”

Tracer beamed right back at her. “Oi, thanks a million, sweetheart.” Within seconds, Emily’s attention was back to the stage, clapping and cheering along with the rest of the rowdy crowd as Lúcio began doing the worm. Shuffling her way out of the writhing mass of fans proved difficult, and Tracer let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding once she finally reached the beverage stand. She grabbed herself a punch first, sipping gently as she surveyed the streets--practically the whole city had shown up for Lúcio’s concert, and only the occasional passerby roamed the beaten-down sidewalks. She jumped, mildly startled, when her transmitter crackled, almost dropping her punch. 

“Lena, you there?” Morrison asked amidst the static. 

“Sure thing, commander. What’s the scoop?”

He sighed deeply, a sound that Tracer had come to associate with bad news. “We have a situation.”

 

\---

Within seconds of the dropship touching the ground, and with as much speed as a man with a leg and a half could muster, Junkrat raced to the England team, fingers curled tightly around what looked to be a small metallic rectangle. Roadhog followed at a safe distance, a stark contrast to his frenzied partner. 

“Oi, oi, I got it off without blowin’ the damn city sky high! Nasty little bugger, though.”

Mercy winced, absentmindedly taking a few steps backwards. “Don’t wave that thing around! Is that a bomb you’ve got?”

“Easy, sheila, the thing ain’t rigged to blow anymore. Neat little device, nonetheless. Harmless right now, I swear.”

Genji raised an eyebrow behind his visor--unnoticed as usual. “Quite a feat to defuse an explosive you’ve never seen, Jamison.”

“Aw, shucks, don’t flatter me, ya big tin can,” Junkrat shot back, glowing with pride. “A bomb is a bomb, no matter how fancy ya get with it.”

McCree whistled, crossing his arms. “That is one funny-lookin’ bomb. How’d you pull that off, anyhow?”

“See how it’s kind of a rectangle shape thingie? The top part kinda slides like this and has a lil’ indent right here, not sure what that’s for quite yet, but it works like a pressure plate. One step and everything goes kablooey.”

Mercy squinted at the indented portion of the metal. “And you found this on the ground?”

Junkrat shrugged. “See, that’s the weird part. It was on the side of a building.”

A collective silence, rooted in confusion, settled on the agents. McCree scratched his head. “An’ what the devil was it doin’ there?”

“Hell if I know, mate. But look, that’s not even the half of it. So to keep it from blowin’, I had to go pokin’ around inside the thing--flipped it over like this, yeah--and I know it’s a pressure plate, ‘cause there’s this little button right here behind where that indent would be on the front, but look, y’see how these little black wires are all connected to this blinky part there?”

Genji reached tentatively for the bomb’s insides, pointing to a small, intermittently flashing red light, so well concealed amongst the wires that he’d almost missed it completely. “Does that indicate something?”

“That’s the super important part, how it’s got all those wires on it. There’s no reason to have a transmitter on a pressure plate-type thing, ‘cause you don’t really gotta blow it with a trigger besides pressure, unless you got it synchronized with somethin’ else. So bad news is I’d be willin’ to bet this ain’t the only one around here.”

“I’m no explosives specialist,” Mercy added, worry etched into her brow, “but if it is synchronized with other possible explosives, does that mean--”

“Bingo, doc. You blow one, you blow ‘em all.”

_That certainly complicates things_ , Genji thought to himself. On the plus side, the strange placement of the bombs on the brick outer walls of the city’s buildings would make locating and avoiding the devices much simpler than vigilantly searching underfoot, but until they were certain of how many existed, let alone their placements, there would be absolutely zero room for error. Genji vaguely recalled Zenyatta mentioning some proverb along the lines of “to err is human” during their last dangerous mission, and the thought only made him substantially more anxious. 

“It does not matter who placed them right now,” the younger Shimada offered. “Countless lives are at stake with such weaponry at a large gathering. We must evacuate the civilians.”

“But we can’t draw attention to a crisis, or we risk sending the crowd into a panic,” Mercy replied, a hint of frustration in her voice. “In all of the chaos, it is too likely that someone will jostle an unseen bomb before we’ve gotten to it.”

Genji nodded in solemn agreement. “And we still do not know for sure whether the explosives are only attached to the side of buildings. Perhaps some still lurk where one may step.”

“Look, here’s the deal,” Junkrat interrupted. “Head cheese back at HQ said he’s already lettin’ all the agents here for the concert know about the problem, yeah? We keep this on the down low for now, we be on our guard, and we go bomb huntin’. Ya see one, ya back the hell up, and you lemme know, and Hog an’ I will haul ass over to ya to defuse the little bugger.”

McCree tipped his hat in approval. “Keeps us from firin’ and scarin’ anyone, and still lets us look for whoever’s stickin’ these things to the walls and all that.” 

“Alright, so I’ll head out to look with the doc, and Hog can stick with the cowboy. Oi, Genji, ya think you can get a lil’ high ground and take a peek around the place?” 

“Of course. I shall radio you the moment I find anything suspicious.”

“Cheers. Remember, we’re lookin’ for these lil’ rectangle shapes. Kinda shiny, with the indent in the middle. Even if ya think ya see somethin’ that looks like one, lemme know. Let’s roll.”

But as Mercy and Junkrat headed left, and Roadhog and McCree headed right, Genji’s eyes locked onto an entirely different shape, more akin to a cylinder than a rectangle, nestled far out of reach atop the shingles of an awning. He took several tentative steps forward, convinced his eyes were deceiving him, and his heart thudded against its metallic surroundings as he recognized the one particular violet cannister latched to the roof that unnerved him far more than any explosive could ever dare to.


End file.
